


The Games We Play

by Kratsayra



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And winning them, Arya loves games, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Face-Fucking, Filthy, First Time Blow Jobs, Going to Hell, Half-Sibling Incest, I REGRET NOTHING, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jealous Jon Snow, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Some Plot, Spanking, Starkcest (ASoIaF), Voyeurism, sexual games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2020-09-26 11:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20388811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kratsayra/pseuds/Kratsayra
Summary: Jon and Arya love their games





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's no plot, I was just trying to release some sexual frustration between these two and...well, read at your own risk.

The sun was warm on her wet skin as Arya laid back on the grass and stared up at the wispy white clouds floating across the sky. The meadow was quiet aside from the chirping of the birds and the buzzing of the bees and her erratic breathing. 

They had sneaked out of the castle after Septa Mordane had scolded Arya about the state of her dress and hair. 

In her defence, Arya had been riding all morning and when did you ever hear of someone come back from a ride looking perfect?

Oh wait, _Sansa_. But Sansa did not ride, not really. She did not allow her mare to gallop down the forest trails, going so fast you could pretend you were riding a dragon.

But Septa Mordane and her disapproval was routine, so Arya had gone to find Jon and escape into the woods with their horses. Any time she spent away from the Septa and her classes were a blessing, but Arya enjoyed playing with Jon more.

That is how they had ended up at the lake, shedding their clothes and diving into the cold waters before they came up and laid down under the sun next to each other to dry.

Her breath hitches suddenly and she is jolted back to the present, an involuntary mewl escapes her as she feels Jon's lips itch closer to its target. Propping herself up on her elbows she looks down at him. His head is between her legs, eyes closed and tongue flicking against the outsides of her folds languidly. She squirms, and Jon opens his eyes to look into hers directly and _finally_ drew his rough tongue in long strokes against her slit.

Arya gasps and falls back on the grass, her breath shaky as the crescendo builds with every flick on his tongue. 

The tip of his tongue circles her clit and her back arches off the ground. Her nipples are erect and hard on her small breasts, her mouth hanging open in a small 'O'. 

She's so close but Jon never gives it to her so easy, working her like an instrument, wound tight and thrumming with need. He abandons her clit just before she crests, focusing instead on her opening.

Arya growls in frustration, but then he's pushing his tongue inside- and _oh!_ \- it feels so glorious. 

Jon is pushing her knees wider apart, forcing the back of her heels to dig against her ass. His nose is buried inside her folds, breath tickling her sopping wet cunt. His name is a low moan on her lips and he rewards her with lick on her clit.

Jon resumes thrusting his tongue inside her, slowly then faster and Arya curls her fingers in the grass. His long fingers caress their way up her flat stomach and ribs, light as a feather before reaching up to pinch a nipple. There is a strangled gasp from his mouth when her cunt clenches around his tongue in response. 

His words are muffled against her mound, but she hears the throaty _Gods, Arya_ before he brings his thumb to her clit, his tongue thrusting inside her deeper. 

He does not stop her this time, and her hip jerks as she comes, her body is quivering with the force of the orgasm and Jon holds her down with a hand on her pelvis, sucking the juices that are running down the crack of her ass. 

He comes up for a kiss when she's nearly done, and Arya can taste herself on him. 

She sits up in front of Jon and reaches between his legs to wrap her fingers around his cock, pulling the skin back like he's taught her to. It’s swollen and nearly purple and as she watches there is a drop of liquid beading at the slit on top. She smears it on his head with her thumb, looking up to see him watching her raptly. 

She remembers watching Denna, the chambermaid take one of the stable boys in her mouth, but she doesn't know if Jon would like it.

Well _he_ took _her_ in his mouth, didn't he?

Feeling brave and a lot more adventurous, she leans forward and kisses the head. Taking the sharp intake of his breath as encouragement to continue, she takes him in her mouth slowly. Her tongue dances around his cock, trying to get out of the way and Arya struggles to fit him in.

_How does Denna do it?_

Jon groans and takes a hold of the back of her head, guiding her back and forth over his length. Its ridged and hard, but still so smooth and Arya finds herself exploring the shape of him.

She looks up at him, and his pupils are dilated making his eyes look like black bottomless pits and she shivers with the intensity of his gaze. When her tongue sweeps the underside of his cock, nudging the thick vein she feels there, his fingers tighten in her hair and his breath hisses out from between his teeth.

It's a euphoric feeling, knowing that she can make him lose control like this. Of all the previous times she'd made him come, it had always been with her hand, pumping back and forth until he spilled his seed. But this is different, Jon looks like he’s close to losing control.

She brings her hands up and massages his balls, then trails her fingers down between his cock and ass, scraping her nails against the sensitive skin there.

"_Fuck!_"

Jon pulls out of her mouth, but cannot stop the hot splash of cum from painting her face and neck. Arya shivers and licks her lips tasting him curiously. It’s slightly bitter but also salty, and Arya sticks her tongue out again for another taste.

She notices Jon studying her and blushes, but he’s cupping her face, his thumbs rubbing his seed into her skin and then kissing her hungrily. Arya climbs into his lap and kisses him back eagerly, feeling extremely pleased with herself. 

This was their game. And she always won.


	2. Chapter 2

His lips are on hers, feverish and needy. He'd followed her out of the great hall, she knows, and shivers in delight when he presses her against the wall. He licks her bottom lip, and Arya finally opens her mouth to his plunging tongue. 

He is different today, not gentle and persuasive like usual. Jon's fingers are in her hair, tilting her head up for a punishing kiss. 

It's been difficult, sneaking around with all the guests milling about Winterfell. Stark and Tyrell men, all gathered to witness Sansa Stark wed Willas Tyrell.

His hand comes up to the front of her gown, squeezing her breasts roughly and she gasps. Jon has never been rough with her, but she responds to his touch nonetheless. She's missed him so much. 

His mouth leaves her swollen lips, to trail down her throat, nipping at the base of her neck when her pulse is thrumming, then across her exposed collarbones, slipping her gown down to kiss her pale shoulder before he bites down, sucking at it simultaneously. 

Arya gasps in shock, and pushes him away instinctively. Jon's grey eyes are luminous in the moonlight, that Arya wonders if they are even grey. They look different, a ring of pale purple merging with the grey.

He's watching her, waiting till she's ready for him again, and his gaze is..._predatory_.

_Her Jon._

His knee is slowly pushing between her legs, sliding up when she doesn't protest. Arya moans when his knee nudges her cunt through the skirts of her gown.

It's a ridiculous thing, all blue silk and lace and low bodice that makes her conscious of the swell of breasts exposed above it, but Jon's eyes are studying her hungrily.

His knee is pressing against her heat harder and Arya finds herself rubbing against it, eyes locked with Jon's. Her breath comes in pants, clouding in front of her face in the cold night.

She would fuck her brother's knee if he looked at her like that.

"You're beautiful," Jon says hooking his finger inside her bodice and pulling the gown down in one quick motion, ripping the gauzy lace there. 

Her breasts spill out, pushed up high by the stays cinching her waist. Her nipples are hard and aching, the cold air biting on the sensitive skin. 

She wriggles against his knee, wishing her skirts were gone, and Jon brushes the back of his hand against the stiff peaks lightly.

Her back arches off the wall with a groan, silently begging for more because she knows this is the game now. 

Jon leans down and whispers, breath hot against her ear, "You can dance with every fucking lord in that hall, little sister. But you belong to me, don't forget that."

Then he's kissing the tops of her breasts and her jaw, and tugging at her earlobe with his teeth, but resolutely avoiding her aching nipples. 

Arya squirms, it's too much. Then Jon is pushing her down by the shoulders. She kneels on the cold flagstones, grateful for her skirts for the first time that night as they soften the ground for her knees. The snow is melting through the fabric and staining it though, and she's sure the silk is ruined.

He is unlacing his breeches, and then tipping her chin up as he pulls out his cock. It is hard and Arya knows what to do now. She's learnt how he likes it, so she takes him in her hand and strokes, feeling him get harder.

He swells in her grasp, so she replaces fingers with tongue, licking his length slowly, spending time at the sensitive head, pushing the tip of her tongue against the slit on top until Jon is gasping for air.

She smiles and puts the head in her mouth suckling on it greedily before Jon pulls out of her mouth suddenly. 

"Seven _hells_!"

He's squeezing the base of his cock, eyes closed in concentration, chest heaving like he's run for miles. She wants him back in her mouth, so she runs her fingers through the curls at the base of his cock.

"Fuck my mouth, brother. I want to taste you."

Jon's eyes are glowing, and she can swear they're all purple now. With a grunt, he shoves his cock into her mouth, pushing until the head hits the back of her throat. 

He's thrusting almost immediately, fingers locked in her hair as he holds her still. The pins holding her hair in an elaborate knot are pinching, and Arya feels her eyes smarting in pain. 

With a grunt, she reaches and pulls out a few of them, ruining the style and the relief is instant.

But Jon is not slowing down, and drool and precum dribble down her chin. She's trying to breathe through her nose as Jon thrusts faster his balls slapping her wet chin, and she knows he's close. 

Arya locks her eyes on him sucking in with every thrust, needing him to come in her mouth. Her cunt throbs in agreement, moisture trickling down her thighs and she squeezes her legs together to relieve the tension.

Jon comes with a thrust and holds himself as he spews his seed in her greedy mouth. His eyes hold her prisoner, the muscles of his neck and face clenched tight, mouth clamped shut to avoid crying out as he floods her mouth with his cum.

Arya gasps and stiffens, because her cunt is clenching in response and with a shudder that wrecks through her body, she's coming too. Her back arches and she swallows and moans against the cock in her mouth, riding out the orgasm.

Jon pulls his cock out of her mouth when she’s done and Arya is glad she’s not standing. She leans her forehead against his thigh, trying to catch her breath. Her jaw hurts, but her cunt is still throbbing and sensitive. 

"Jon.." she rasps, sounding needy.

He cups her face and looks at her with those burning eyes. "Seven hells Arya, you came from sucking my cock." He swallows and that hint of jealousy is back, "You deserve more than being a Lady to those insipid men."

"I'm not a Lady."

Jon's gaze brushes across her, burning and hot, and Arya tries to imagine what she looks like. Curls coming undone from the elaborate knot and clinging to her neck, lips red and stained with his cum that was now dribbling down her chin and between her breasts that spilled out of her ruined gown, her face tipped upwards, eyes wide with lust as she kneels before him, skirts spread out around her.

No, she's not a lady. But she can't complain when she sees Jon's cock twitch in response, already hardening again. What did he see? A slut? His little sister who came from sucking his cock? 

"You are everything I want and more than I deserve." Jon tells her before he kisses her, tasting himself on her lips.

Her stomach clenches and Arya is pulling him down, her fingers tug the dark curls at the nape of his neck. Jon lifts her off the ground, pressing her up between him and the wall.

He brings her legs to wrap around his hips, and Arya squirms until she's fitting against him perfectly. His cock is hard and just below the folds of her dripping wet cunt, a few adjustments, and a quick thrust and he could take her maidenhead. 

Arya finds herself wanting it, and she wriggles on top, rubbing her folds over his hard length desperately. Jon pulls back with a groan, his hand grabbing her hips to still her. His voice is tight, "Don't tempt me, Arya. I cannot."

She's ready to protest, but his lips are latching on to a nipple, licking and sucking until it's hard and aching again. Arya squirms and tries to resist, wanting to clip him round the ear for playing unfair, but then his teeth are scraping the sensitive nub and all thoughts leave her mind. 

He goes back and forth between the two of them alternating with tongue, teeth and fingers until she's a mess of incoherent words, mewling and imprisoned against the wall and Jon's eager mouth.

The orgasm hits her before she even realizes it and Jon kisses her quickly, drowning out the scream erupting from her chest. She’s twitching against him, her skin tingling and sensitive and she shudders with the intensity, biting down on his lip.

He's on his knees as soon as she comes to, bunching her skirts around her hips and spreading her folds open. Arya hisses as she feels the cold night air brush against her sopping cunt. 

"Fucking _hell_" Jon rasps and she blushes, she's a mess down there she knows, her juices running down her thigh and her folds throbbing and aching. But then his mouth is on her, and Arya stuffs her fist into her mouth to keep from crying out. 

He knows her better than herself, and _Gods_ the things he does to her body. She thrusts her cunt against his mouth and spreads her legs wider completely giving over. Her clit twitches when Jon's tongue curls inside her and she's coming again, harder than before. His name is a pray on her lips, as he continues to thrust his tongue in and out, drawing out the pleasure. 

When it subsides, she slides down the wall, too weak to support herself anymore and watches as Jon kneels over her. They stare wordlessly at each other and he strokes the length of his cock slowly, almost obscene in the way he touches himself, and Arya's shivers at the intensity of his gaze. With a jerk of his cock he's coming, his seed spurting in thick ropes across her face and breasts, and clinging to her gown, marking her, claiming her.

***

"Arya! Where have you been you-what _happened_ to you!?" Her mother sees her sneaking back to her chambers and corners her.

She resists the urge to pat her curls down, and thanks the gods it's too dark to notice the stains on her gown.

"Nothing happened. I took Nymeria to the godswood because she was so restless being locked in the kennels, and with so many new smells in the castle. I guess I got carried away playing with her. Did I miss the bedding ceremony?"

Her mother frowns. "Yes, you should have been there. It's your sister’s wedding Arya. Family, Duty, Honour, and family always comes first. Besides, people were asking for you, Ser Edric Dayne and Lord Dickon Tarly both seemed quite taken-"

"Mother," Arya interrupts her, not liking where this is heading. "I'm tired, I would like to retire for the night. Surely this can wait?"

Catelyn purses her lips, but does not push the matter, she nods and Arya slip past her, turning down the hallway to her chambers. Just before she can enter, a hand clamps over hers. "It doesn't matter if it's a Dayne or a Tarly, you belong to your bastard brother." His breath is warm on her ear, and Arya nods shakily, her skin tingling with awareness. 

Before she can turn around, Jon's gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe I'm a bit obsessed with possessive Jon Snow...oops?


	3. Chapter 3

_She is beautiful_, Arya thinks, watching the red-haired woman strut down the street in a low-cut gown, the high swells of her breasts on full display. Men call her from across the street, and she waves and winks, catching the coin they throw her way and promising them they would find her at the brothel tonight.

Arya slips out from behind the hedges, and follows her.

She goes into an old house on the edge of town, through the door in the back of the stone house, where the servants give her a glare and sniff disdainfully. She does not pay them any mind, walking into the house with her head held high. Arya wishes she could follow; she needs to _know_.

Spying the low windows open to the small patch of garden, she ducks under the ledge, hiding between the bushes there. Braving a peek, she confirms that it is a small room, sparsely furnished and warmed by the low fire burning under the mantel. The red-haired woman - Ros, she’s heard Theon call her - is the best whore in Winter town, or so Arya has heard, and she is currently kneeling on the faded rug, sucking the master of the house noisily. 

The man is fat, and the folds of his stomach jiggle as she bounces her red head over his pink cock. Arya watches fascinated. Ros is naked, and a dark flush is rising across her pale face and neck. The man grunts, and starts thrusting into her mouth urgently and Arya smiles; he must be near. She knows how rough Jon gets with her mouth when he is close, and her cunt throbs in response.

He's going to come any second now.

Suddenly, he pulls away from her mouth with a pop, and picking Ros off her feet, bends her over the table. Arya holds her breath and looks on eagerly as Ros spreads her legs, her cunt is red and swollen with all the blood rushing there and Arya swallows and shifts uncomfortably. The sun is streaming into the window from behind her and beating down against her neck as sweat beads on her forehead and trickles down between her breasts. She has a good vantage of them, so she sits back on her heels and squeezes her legs together, dusting the grass and dirt from her palms and looking on.

The man is fingering her cunt now and Ros is moaning, juices dripping down his fingers and wriggling her ass. Arya's eyes widen and she nearly gasps when he brings his palm down in a resounding slap, leaving a red print on her pale ass.

Ros groans and wriggles her ass some more, and the man spanks her over and over, till her bottom is red and glowing and Arya is squirming uncomfortably. She wants to bring her own fingers down between her legs, and after throwing a furtive glance around her, she slips them under her skirts.

She sucks in a deep breath because she thinks she may be as wet as Ros when she touches her hot slit blissfully. 

The man is now tugging at Ros' red hair, pulling her head back and whispering something in her ear. She whimpers and Arya wants to do the same when her fingers brush her clit teasingly. He squeezes her ass and spanks her some more, then pushes her legs wider, spreading her out for Arya to see, and she appreciates the gesture, the finger on her clit becoming more agonizing. 

Arya's mouth is dry, but her cunt is gushing like the river that runs by the miller's place. She stills her hand and ducks lower when the man suddenly leaves Ros on the table and looks in his cabinet for something. He comes back with a small bottle of oil and pours a little between the cheeks of her ass, and rubs some more on his cock that is now much bigger than before. Arya is confused, so she watches closely. Did the oil make it better?

But then the man is pushing his finger in Ros' arsehole and Arya's eyes become wide as saucers. He pushes another finger in and begins to fuck the hole like it was her cunt. Arya swallowed, but stayed absolutely still. Her eyes follow his movements now as if she’s in a trance and he works his fingers in and out the tight hole, until Ros is moaning again.

Did he...? Did it mean...? _Did it feel that good?_

Her cunt throbs, reminding her that she could use some feeling good too, and her fingers resume their movements between her legs. Her breath comes out a little shaky and then not at all when the man suddenly thrusts his cock inside Ros’ back hole!

Ros is wailing and whimpering, and Arya can feel her voice go straight to her own cunt which is clenching at the air in desperation. Her mouth falls open, and she gives up trying to finger herself. Going by way her heart is racing at the scene before her, she is sure she can come just by watching them now.

The man whispers in Ros' ear again and a shiver runs down her naked spine, then he began fucking her arsehole in earnest. Ros moans and bucks and Arya stares, transfixed. The man's hand comes down in another series of quick spanks and Arya bites her lip, pressing her eyes closed and imagining Jon's firm hand spanking her own ass red.

She shudders, whether in fear or delight she can’t tell.

The man growls and spanks her some more, then tugs Ros back up by her hair roughly, his voice not so soft now as he grates, "I said louder you fucking _slut_, and make it good so the little girl at the window comes _hard_!"

Arya freezes, Ros is looking right at her and moaning loudly as she comes, arching her back and bucking towards the man's cock.

She gasps and stumbles out of the bushes frantically. And grabbing her skirts quickly, she runs like the hounds are chasing her.

She runs till she reaches Winterfell, and does not stop even then. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she is sure her shame and arousal are painted on her face for all to see. 

She flies up the stairs of the Broken Tower, panting when she comes to the ruined circular chamber on top.

Almost immediately she brings her fingers to her cunt, rubbing herself so hard she was surprised she hadn't started smoking.

"Arya?"

The voice makes her jump and groan in frustration. _Was she not going to be allowed to come in peace?!_

Dropping her hand from under her skirt at the very last minute guiltily, she blinks and sees its Jon. 

_Finally_.

"I saw you running up here. Did you just get back from the village? Are you okay?" he asks and she shakes her head, reaching out towards him.

Jon comes closer, circling her waist with his arms as a frown mars his forehead. "_What is it?_” Then he suddenly stiffens, his nose flaring, and Arya knows he can smell her arousal. She's damp with it, her fingers and thighs sticky with her juices.

She lunges at him, straining on the tips of her toes so she can kiss him with all the pent-up frustration. And he kisses her back, supporting her weight as she leans into him. 

She pulls back with a gasp and takes his hand, tugging him with her till she sits down on the cold stone bench and immediately pulling him down.

Jon makes to sit beside her, but she pushes his shoulders down till he is kneeling before her. Her hands grab her skirts and lift them up and Jon's dark eyes fly to hers in understanding.

The cool air is a relief on her heated flesh and Arya groans and spreads her legs, showing Jon just how much she needs him right now.

He stares, his eyes glowing silver with that purple ring she recognises so well, and the full musk of her arousal hits his nostrils, because now he is breathing her in deeply. 

"Gods, your cunt is so _needy,_ Arya." His voice is raspy and his hands come to her knees and spreads them apart wider, letting the cool air in between the lips of her throbbing slit. Arya shivers, and then because she cannot bare it any longer, she pulls his head down between her legs impatiently.

He takes the hint, licking and sucking her _just_ right and Arya feels the delicious arousal build up again, thrum through her veins and trickle out of her cunt.

The sounds of the smacks on Ros' ass play in her mind and she begins to writhe and undulate against his mouth. 

Jon sucks in a breath and the stubble on his face is chafing her delicate skin, extracting a low, throaty moan from her. She grabs his head by his hair, and thrusts herself against his mouth. Jon stills, simply supporting her as she rubs her cunt over his face desperately, her breath coming out in pants.

He flicks her clit a few times and she's finally coming apart loudly, her hands holding him there till her body stops spasming with her release. 

She's breathing harshly, and Jon licks and sucks her lightly before he pulls back and sits on his heels. Arya can see that his mouth, chin and nose are all wet with her juices, his hair standing and thoroughly messed up by her fingers, and looking absolutely wrecked. It satisfies something deep inside her, knowing that her scent is going to cling to his skin and hair for a long time.

She sighs in contentment and leans back on the bench, idly trying to fix his hair. He gives her a lopsided grin, and licks his lips before he turns to kiss her palm.

"Jon I... I need you to do something for me."

"Mm?"

_Ooh, she was playing a dangerous game here._

"I need you to spank me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching between tenses is hard.
> 
> Leave a kudos, comment and make my day, will you?


	4. Chapter 4

He had told her no. At least a hundred times. But she had hounded him about it for days. Goddamn her stubbornness. 

Finally, he gave in, because if he was honest, he was always going to. Jon hadn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep since the day she had demanded he spank her. He was shocked with how appealing the suggestion sounded, and horrified when his palms tingled whenever she brought it up, as if to taunt him. 

Ultimately, gave in, telling her the one rule to this game: She would do everything he asked. He knew how telling Arya what to do usually translated into her doing the exact opposite. His heart sped as he waited for her answer. She agreed.

It had eaten at him, the need to give her what she wanted, to spank her ass till it was throbbing and glowing red. It scared him because not all of this need came from what she wanted, _he_ wanted it too. He felt like a depraved bastard, because thinking about it made his blood run hot and his cock hard as steel. 

And when she quietly slips into his chambers at the hour of the wolf, wearing her virginal white nightgown and nothing else -just like he'd told her to- his blood rushes to his cock. The neck is high and modest, her sleeves are full and hug her wrists demurely, the hem whispers softly at her ankles, and she _still_ makes his cock so hard. His beautiful wolf. He would make her howl for him tonight.

____

He motions for her to sit on his lap, and Arya hesitates, unsure how he wants her. "Bend over my knee Arya." his voice is rough, like sandpaper. Her cunt clenches and her heartbeat picks up.

She climbs over his knee, wriggling in place before she hears Jon's breath catch when her soft belly presses on hard erection. He adjusts her away from his hard cock, and higher till her ass is pointing up in the air and her hair slides down the side of the bed in a dark curtain. She rests her cheek on his mattress, the rough fabric and the smell of Jon both familiar and comforting. He rubs his hand down her back soothingly.

The material of her nightgown is thin and soft and she can feel his fingers kneading her ass. A low thrum is resonating deep within her, anticipation and thrill building slowly but steadily.

"I want you to count them."

She nods, turning her red face into the mattress. The wait is killing her, and the need, oh gods the _need_.

The first slap catches her unaware and she yelps in surprise. "One." She remembers a little late but Jon let's it go.

There is a long pause, and Arya is worried he is going to stop, refuse to do this anymore, and send her on her way back to bed. She is just about to turn to look up at him when she feels the sting of the second and third. So close to each other and not light at all. "Two, three," she huffs out.

She hears the thwack of the next slap, before she feels the pain bloom from the place he struck. "Four!" she gasps, not surprised when moisture trickles down her folds.

She counts them, her voice getting higher with each strike, and now she's panting and squirming on his lap. Her ass throbs and her cunt clenches and suddenly Jon flips up her nightgown, the cool night air feels like a relief.

She sighs, and then mewls when his fingers knead her hot flesh. It feels good, in a different way. Jon adjusts her, so she's higher and then his hand strikes the crease between her ass and thigh. The sound she makes is embarrassing, and the sting of the slap turns into a burn she feels in her cunt.

"Jo_-nnnhh!_"

The slaps that follow are so quick, she has lost count. They are not very hard, but the sharp thwack-thwack, set in pairs, resound in the dark chamber harshly. He aims at the spots he'd missed before, and she's sure her bottom is red enough to assist him where his memory does not.

The closer Jon's hand itched towards the crease of her thigh, the more she spreads her legs, hoping he'll see the wetness and touch her finally.

He doesn't.

He does something _much_ worse.

The strike on her sensitive and inflamed wet folds shakes her to the core, and she growls into the mattress, biting down on the soft sheet.

Now she's struggling to close her thighs. 

"No," Jon grunts.

And he's pushing her legs apart and then spanking her cunt more.

She howls into the mattress till she is hoarse, writhing with need because this does nothing to relieve her, and everything to turn her into a blubbering, whimpering, needy mess. Her tears soak the mattress and she is _so_ desperate.

It builds slowly, but evades her. Her clit is hidden away from him, abandoned and throbbing pitifully. And he doesn't pay it any mind. Arya grinds herself on the rough spun fabric of his breeches, needing but a little friction to finally set her off.

His fingers are wet when his hand comes down on her ass again in a couple of hard slaps and she tries to squirm away, whimpering. Jon clamps a hand at the bottom of her spine to stop her, and she struggles, but then his fingers are parting her soaked folds and she stills.

The air tickles her sensitive skin deliciously and Arya whines. Two fingers slide up, till they squeeze her clit on either side. They move rhythmically and she feels the waves of pleasure crash before she can even catch her breath. It goes on and on, and Arya feels lightheaded, shaking with release.

When she comes to, Jon is kissing down her spine, darting his tongue to dip in the dimples at the bottom. She shivers and he is nudging her to the bed. "Strip, and then on your hands and knees." His voice and jaw are tight, _focused._ And Arya's gut clenches.

She wants to curls up on the bed and sleep, but her body disagrees. She pulls her nightgown over her head and sucks in an unsteady breath at the look Jon is giving her.

Her nipples are like hardened pebbles and her skin is hot and buzzing. She positions herself for him, and his hand is on her again. Squeezing her breasts, sliding down her sides, digging into her hips.

Her eyes begin to droop in sensual languidness. His fingers massage her shoulders, then the back of her neck and she hums in pleasure.

Then he is biting down on her sore bottom and her eyes fly open with a gasp, she whimpers when he licks and kisses the spot.

His mouth trails back, kissing and nipping till he's between her legs. His tongue darting across her opening as if he's tasting her. His low moan blows across her cunt and reverberates throughout her body, and she responds with a needy groan, burying her face into the mattress and pushing her ass out higher.

He rewards her by laying his rough tongue flat on her clit, and his fingers are back, tentatively testing the opening in her cunt. He doesn't go far, because he is adamant about not taking her maidenhead. She knows it has something to do with the fact that he won't let himself despoil her in the eyes of the world.

But he doesn't realise that he has _already_ spoiled her for anyone but him.

His finger lingers and she wants to beg him to fuck her, like she's done so many times before to no avail. But then his finger travels up the crease, higher till it's at the small puckered hole at the back. And she stops breathing. 

The image of Ros taking a cock back there is sealed into her mind and when Jon circles the little hole lightly, a tremor runs through her body. There is a low deep rumble from his chest and Arya turns to see Jon swallow, _hard_. 

His eyes lock on hers, and she bites her lips and pushes her hips up to him. 

His finger pushes against the opening, still wet from her juices and suddenly, Arya doesn’t feel so brave. It's weird having something try to enter through there, and she backs away instinctively. But Jon holds her there, his other hand falling back at her clit. Her groan gets stuck in her throat when she feels the muscles at her arsehole contract in response. Like it was all connected. 

He is working her slowly, the stimulation of her clit gradually forcing her muscles to relax, until he wriggles the finger in up to the knuckle. He twists it a little, slanting it this way and that, and she's panting with the new sensations awakening in her body.

Now, her cunt is clenching with how good it feels and he's not even touching her clit anymore. Ros' moans make so much sense suddenly.

Jon aligns himself behind her, carefully sliding his cock against her folds. She loves when he does this, because she can pretend that he's finally taking her. Her cunt is twitching and clenching and she knows she's close. 

The head of his cock nudges her clit, rubbing there as the finger in her ass begins to move, fucking her there in rhythm to his cock. Once, twice, thrice and she's muffling her hoarse scream on the mattress as she comes hard, arching her back, both her holes clenching and her eyes roll back. 

He holds still -ever in control- till she has ridden it down, then he presses her legs together and fucks her thighs.

It’s fast, and sloppy and Arya knows he's waited too long and it won’t take much more for him to come. Her thighs are slick with her cum and he glides between them easily, and she pretends the little squelching noises are of them fucking for real. His hips smack against her ass a couple of times more, before he pulls back and splashes his cum all over her ass. 

Jon rubs it into her hot skin, his seed cool against her reddened ass. "So pretty," he murmurs and kisses the back of her neck. She sighs falling to her side and Jon gathers her in his arms. 

"I worked you too hard, little wolf."

"No, it was perfect..." she mumbled, dozing off before she even finished the sentence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra long chapter to compensate for the long wait.  
There is some plot here to set up for the next chapter.

Jon tastes of spiced wine and cinnamon and Arya kisses him again. 

They lay on his cloak under the giant elm tree, facing each other and stealing occasional kisses between sips of wine while nibbling on the cinnamon pastries she had cajoled Cook to sneak her. Their horses are tied to a low branch near the stream that runs through the woods, and their she can hear them snort and nicker.

"Dickon Tarly asked me to go riding with him tomorrow afternoon. I told him _he_ was welcome to ride with _me,_ as long as he could keep up."

Jon kisses the side of her neck softly. "He's a pompous prick." His lips trail lower, and pulls the light tunic over her head.

"Yes. Father doesn't seem to like him very much, even if he is Lord Tyrell's bannerman and by extension sworn to Sansa and her children." Her breath catches when Jon presses a kiss between her breasts. She helps him with the laces of her breeches, wriggling out of her clothes eagerly. 

"Gods, you get more perfect every day." Jon whispers huskily and presses a kiss to her stomach. 

It _is_ true, her breasts had gotten heavier and her hips flare wider. Her mother said she looks like a woman now, and she might have shouted in dismay if she didn't see how Jon looks at her sometimes.

Other men look too, and once Robb had beaten the guard at the gate bloody when they had been visiting Karhold. She hadn't seen what had angered Robb, and he wouldn't tell her either but she might have poked a few holes in the guard herself. Jon was teaching her to wield Needle and she worked at it every day.

She fists her hands in his hair and kisses him deeply. Needle was their secret too, and she loved him dearly for it.

She helps him out of his clothes, and the sun shines down on them, warming their naked skin despite the cool northern breeze. Their hands are hot on each other and by the time they as naked as their nameday, they are feverish with need and clinging to each other as they kiss desperately. 

Jon leans back on his elbow and looks down at her, his eyes hooded in lust. "He's here to try and win your hand, little sister." He kisses the base of her throat where her pulse thrums. "To woo you with horse rides and flattery and promises of jewels." His lips trail up her neck and nips at her earlobe. "To offer you an ancient Noble name and heirs who will be lords someday." His fingers pinch the dusky pink tips of her breasts and she gasps, arching her back, then his lips replace fingers.

"That's not me" Her voice is breathy, but steadfast.

He looks up from her breasts, dark hair clinging to his forehead damp with a fine sheen of sweat. "No, not you. A wolf doesn't care for flattery and jewels." He offers her the wineskin, and she leans up for a sip and his gaze follows the few drops that dribble from the corner of her mouth, down her chin. She watches him watch her before his tongue catch the errant drops quickly. 

His eyes have that faint purple hue when he looks back up and her mouth goes dry. He licks his lips and her cunt clenches.

Then he's tipping the wineskin over her shoulder.

"_No_ _Jon!_" 

But it's too late, the cool liquid sliding down her warm skin and making her gasp and shiver.

It pools in the hollows of her collar bones, and runs in a rivulet down her breasts, beading at her nipples like little red rubies in the sun. More slides down her stomach and collects in the shallows of her belly button and further south, like fine red fingers reaching down down her hips and into the dark curls between her legs. 

She doesn’t know what makes her hotter, the way that Jon watches her, or the touch of cool wine sliding down her soft folds.

And when his lips close on top of her, she shudders and pulls him closer. His body is unyielding above hers, hardened with muscles on his chest and limbs.

"You won't take a fool like that as your Lord husband." His breath is harsh on her throbbing lips. His teeth nip at her throat as the length of cock slides between her wine drenched thighs. 

Arya bites her lip. "All he wants is a wolf trophy for his halls. To boast of hunting a wild direwolf and taming her in bed."

Jon's eyes flash. "You wouldn't let him into your bed. Probably bite his head off if he tried. Or maybe you wouldn't have to, I would crush his throat with my bare hands." His cock was as hard as steel, slipping between her slick thighs, and with every quick thrust, the head pushes against her dripping slit.

He is teasing her. Again. Because he won't give it to her. And it makes her so needy, it makes her so _mad_.

"No, you won't!" With an angry grunt she shoves at his chest. Jon pulls back in surprise and she rolls them around quickly, tugging his head back by his hair so his neck is exposed to her. She nips and sucks the pale skin, and straddles stomach. Her mouth trails lower, teeth nipping at his collar bones and pecs, dragging over his nipples till he's groaning and pressing her down against him.

Her clit rubs against the hair on his navel and she gasps, pulling back immediately. He knows how to manipulate her body too bloody well, _damn him_.

Arya wraps her fingers around his length, and looks up at him. He needs to _know_; he needs to see how unfair it is to her. Her tongue darts out and catches the pearl of precum beading at the top. He's watching her silently, his eyes glowing under dark lashes. Her tongue slides down his length and she presses her eyes closed when she hears him moan in satisfaction. 

He's hard and throbbing in her hand, and she licks and sucks at his base leisurely till he's grunting and gasping. His cock twitches, and she looks up at him and smiles before she takes him in her mouth. As soon as the tip hits the back of her throat, he grabs her head and holds her still before he thrusts, once, twice, and then he's coming with a groan that makes her body tingle with satisfaction.

She lets go of him with a wet pop, and his cock sways back toward his stomach heavily. It's still hard, and she wants it, she wants him inside her. 

She straddles his hips, positioning her slit over him, sliding up and down his length till he's poised at the opening to her cunt. She lifts her hips, grabbing him below the head and—he grabs her hips and pulls her away.

"No! _No please!_ I want you!"

She struggles and he flips them around again, pinning her hands above her head, and straddling her hips, but not in the way she wants. 

"_Don't_... you don't. Not like this." His eyes are clouded with lust, his voice hoarse.

But she's angry, she's _so_ angry. "Damn you, Jon. I don't care about any of it, I won't be a lady. I won't be a blushing bride and my maidenhead is mine to give to whom I will!" She struggles to free her hands.

His eyes are hard, his jaw set and she feels his cock twitch against her stomach. "It's mine." The words are quiet, and so sure and her chest rises and falls heavily with each breath.

She swallows, she's playing with fire. But Arya Stark wouldn't give up without a fight. And she knows him better than anybody.

"Maybe Dickon Tarly wouldn't care about riding horses if he could ride a wolf."

The effect was immediate, and his growl is low and dangerous. Something deep inside her tightens and flutters in response. 

Jon presses his body against hers, chest to chest so that she is pinned under his weight. He keeps her hands trapped above her head, and rests his forehead against hers. "I promise you little sister, he's never going to lay a hand on you." She presses her eyes closed as a shiver wracks her body.

When she opens them again, he pulls back and stares down at her, dark eyes ringed in purple. "You want me to fuck you. Then I'll fuck you till you can't sit your horse tomorrow. Tarly will live through the disappointment, I'm sure."

She had barely registered his words when he flips her on her stomach, and moves her to her knees, ass in the air. Arya rests her face on the ermine lining of his cloak as the cool breeze soothing her hot folds. _Was he really going to take her maidenhead?_

His hands spread her knees wide apart, and she chokes back a moan when his finger circles her clit. "No, not today Arya," he says, as if reading her mind, and she can't help the disappointed whimper that falls from her lips, silenced immediately by the slap on her ass.

She would have turned back and bit his head off, if Jon hadn't grabbed her hair and tugged her head back, growling in her ear, "Will you howl for me, little wolf?" His finger moves from clit to the opening of her cunt and her breaths come in gasps.

"Mount me like a wolf and I will."

He bites into her shoulder, and she moans, his finger trails down her slit and further back, testing the bud at the back. Her gasp is soft. "_Oh_."

He wriggles it inside, sliding in easily from being soaked in her wetness. Her eyes shut against the sensation and she pushes her hips higher. He pushes another finger inside and she whimpers, trying to relax her muscles. She's only ever had his fingers there before and she can't begin to imagine how he is going to fit. 

He positions himself below her cunt, brushing her sensitive folds as he rocks behind her. Her moan is appreciative as Jon holds himself below the head, rubbing it back and forth over her clit till she's shaking, her cry low and keening when she finally falls apart. 

She's still coming when he pulls back and spits at the stretched hole in the back, quickly sliding out his fingers and sliding his cock inside. 

Her scream echoes in the woods, part bliss and part agony as she comes again. Or maybe the last one never ended; she cannot tell. The orgasm goes on and on and she arches her back and howls till she's hoarse.

Jon is groaning above her, thrusting in short strokes and slowly burying himself deeper. It is delicious torture and the feeling of being filled like this is making her delirious.

"_Gods, Arya…_"

He goes still when he is completely inside her, and she pants, sweat rolling down her forehead and back. Jon is inside her, filling her in ways she can't imagine. _Hers to keep._

He kisses a tender spot on her shoulder and gives a small experimental thrust. Their answering moans combine in a desperate symphony of need, and Jon thrusts harder. 

"_Jon_." Her hand reaches out for him, and he kisses her cheek before pressing his mouth over hers as her fingers curl on the back of his neck.

The bottom of her spine tingles with every thrust and Arya kisses him fervently, gasping into the kiss when his thrusts get more urgent, his hips smacking against her ass.

She knows he's close when his thrusts become erratic, and she brings her hand to her cunt, slipping and sliding in the wetness there till she's clenching around him.

Jon shouts his release, and the warmth of his cum floods her and pushes her over the edge again in a way even her fingers cannot.

____

Their horses gallop down the forest trail, hooves thundering on the hard-packed floor. The trail is clear, maintained by men from the castle and Arya lets her horse fly.

Jon is on her heels, laughing and trying to overtake her. But he can't, she faster and lighter on her horse. And when she rides, they are one.

Her hair has come apart from the knot, and whips behind her in a dark banner, and the cold winds cut through her cloak. But Jon knows there is nothing that can stop her. 

Not even when she had gasped and winced as she swung back on her horse, flinching and trying to find a position that wouldn't hurt. He had apologized, feeling like a savage for being so rough with her, but Arya had laughed it off and told him she could still race him and win.

He pushes the thoughts out of his mind when he notices he has fallen behind. Arya notices too, and slows down into a trot. He presses in his heels and catches up to her.

"Please don't tell me you regret it, Jon. I’ll be fine and I want to do it again." She worries her lip between her teeth. 

What kind of brother fucked his sister the way he had? What sort of man was he if he loved every minute of it? He knows he would do it again, if she asked. He would do it _every_ time she asked. He really was a sick bastard.

He should tell her no; these were not games anymore. He would ruin her, but he wanted her so much. It is insane, he had buggered his little sister. So, what exactly is he trying to protect anymore? Her virtue or his bastard's honour?

When it came to Arya, his honour meant nothing.

"I don't regret it," He tells her and smiles to lighten the mood. "Just don't poke me with Needle when you can't sit straight at the dinner table."

She considers him. "I'll be a proper lady at dinner, and then you can kiss it all better when I come to your room at night," she says saucily.

Jon feels the hair rise on the back of his neck, but she's already leading her mare in a canter. "Come on, slow poke. If we don't get back soon, they'll send a search party for us, and gods forbid it’s Dickon Tarly with his bloody hounds." 

_Damn the little minx._

It is late when they finally lead their horses to the stables. Hullen and the stable hands are busy with the birthing mare, and no one takes much notice of them.

Jon swings down from his saddle and reaches up toward Arya. She makes a face, but lets him help her down anyway. "I can get off by myself, you know."

His hands remain on her waist, her body imprisoned between Jon and her mare. "I know."

Jon leans closer, wanting to kiss her so bad.

"Arya!"

He jerks back, and the mare whinnies nervously. Catelyn Stark stands at the entrance of the stall, her Tully blue eyes angry.

"Where have you been?" 

"We went riding in the Wolfswoods."

But her glare is fixed on the hand resting on Arya's waist and he drops it to his side.

Her blue eyes snap up to his face, and he recognizes the venom there. "I will not have you near my daughter anymore. You will not talk to her and you certainly will not put your hands on her."

"_Mother!_"

"I have had enough of you traipsing around the woods with the bastard wearing naught. What will Lord Tarly think?"

Arya is indignant. "I _am_ wearing clothes! And I don't care what that oaf thinks!"

She is wearing her tunic and breeches, but her hair is a windblown riot and her clothes cling to her curves sinfully. But more than that he knows it is his presence, or rather their combined absence that makes Catelyn furious. She may not know, but she is certainly suspicious.

"Arya, Lord Tarly means to ask for your hand in marriage. The Tarlys are an ancient and noble house, and you would be so close to Sansa—" 

"I won't marry him! I don’t want to be with Sansa!" She turns away, and shoves past her mother, leaving the stables in a hurry.

Jon turns away from Catelyn, but just as he is leaving, her voice came, cold and cutting. "You will not ruin my children's future, bastard. I will make sure of it."

"Tarly would never deserve her. She belongs here, in the North, with the people she loves." _With me._

"Do not presume to know my children better than me. I know exactly what your black heart wants. I tolerated you because you were a child. You may be my husband son, but I will never forget that you are a bastard and have a bastard's honour."

Jon looks at the woman who hated and terrified him for as long as he could remember, and turns away. 

"I have no honour, Lady Stark."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback would be much appreciated!


End file.
